


Dirty Little Secret

by orphan_account



Category: Bully: Scholarship Edition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Vance helps Gord fix his bike, Gord realizes that he's falling for the greaser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after the end of _Bully_ and contains some minor spoilers.

"Hopkins!  Come here a minute!"

Jimmy groaned and looked over his shoulder to see Gord hailing him from across the courtyard between Harrington House and the athletic center, where Jimmy had been headed.  
  
"What?" Jimmy growled, reluctantly approaching the prep.

"I need a favor."  Gord shot Jimmy what was probably supposed to be a charming smile.  "My bicycle is, ah, out of commission.  I need it repaired."

"Do I look like a freakin' bike shop?" Jimmy exploded.  "You're gonna make me late for gym!"

Gord arched a well-groomed eyebrow.  "Since when did you mind missing a class?  Quit making excuses, James; I can see right through you."

Jimmy folded his arms and scowled.  "Why do you need _me_ to fix it?"

"Well, I only want the _best_ for my bicycle, and you _did_ pass shop with flying colors last semester, and, ah--"

Jimmy leaned closer and tapped Gord on the chest.  "Now _you're_ making excuses.  Just take it to the bike shop."

Gord looked flustered, then finally hissed, "I don't have any money.  Aquaberry got in their new stock for spring, and I, uh, went a little overboard.  Daddy _refuses_ to give me an advance on my allowance, so I won't have any cash for two more weeks!"

"Then get one of your rich little friends to give you a loan!"

Gord looked horrified.  "I can't let them find out I'm short on funds!  Heaven only knows what Derby would do."

"Tough luck," Jimmy said unsympathetically.  "Just 'cos we made out a couple times, doesn't mean I'm your slave."  He started to walk away, but Gord grabbed at his sleeve.

"Jimmy, _please_.  If I don't get it fixed, everyone will start to get suspicious.  Look, when I get my allowance, I'll pay you _double_ what the bike shop would charge."

Jimmy sighed and turned back to the desperate prep.  "Okay, okay.  Where's the bike?"

Gord beamed.  "Oh, _thank_ you."  He motioned for Jimmy to follow him towards Harrington House.  "I'll make it up to you.  In more ways than one."

Jimmy rolled his eyes.  "One way is plenty.  I just want the cash when you get it."

Gord led him to the bike rack in front of Harrington House, where Jimmy found an Aquaberry-turquoise BMX which would have been quite impressive if half of the front wheel wasn't at a ninety-degree angle to the other half.

"What the hell did you do to it?"

"I got rather, ah, distracted coming back from town, and I ran into a fire hydrant."

"I see."  Jimmy knelt down in front of the bike to study the bent wheel.  "And was the distraction male or female this time?"

"A gentleman must be discreet," Gord said loftily.

"Male, then, hunh?"  Jimmy stood and dusted off his slacks.  "This is gonna take more experience than one semester of shop.  You'll have to get one of the greasers to do it."

"The _greasers_?  You've got to be kidding!  I can't ask _them_."

"Would you rather explain to Derby why you don't have a working bike?"  Jimmy chuckled when he saw Gord's dismayed expression.  "I'll go over to the shop with you.  They'll do it if I say so-- and if you ask nicely."

Gord looked pained, but he nodded.  "All right."

He unlocked his bike from the rack and wheeled it on its back tire after Jimmy.  Gord hung back a little as Jimmy wandered into one of the garages in the auto shop area and looked around.  The garage was more empty than usual; only one greaser was there, rummaging through a box of parts with his back to Jimmy and Gord.

"Uh, he looks busy.  We can come back later," Gord hissed at Jimmy.  At the sound of his voice, the greaser turned around, then grinned.

"Jimmy, hey.  What's up?"

"I need a favor, Vance.  Gord here needs some work done on his bike."

Vance looked at Gord, and immediately his cheerful expression faded.  "A preppy needs _my_ help?  And hey, aren't you the one that caused all that trouble between Johnny and Lola?"

"Him and half of the other guys on campus," Jimmy replied before Gord could say anything.  "Gord's decent, for a prep.  And I don't think he's had any designs on girls lately.  Right, Gord?"  Jimmy gave Gord a rather indiscriminate wink.

"Erm, yes, that's right."  Vance still didn't look convinced, and Gord wheeled his bike forward a little.  "Couldn't you at least look at it. . . please?"

Vance looked down at the bike, then stared.  "Holy crap, what have you done to 'er?"  He crouched down and ran a hand over the warped wheel.  "Poor doll. . . he's been treating you bad, hasn't he?"

"She-- I mean, _it's_ just a bike!" Gord spluttered.

" _Just a bike_?  No, no, no!"  Vance tugged the bike away from Gord and lifted it up onto the counter.  "This is one a' the most beautiful bikes I ever seen.  Damn, if I could afford something like this. . . ."  He shook his head then reached for a wrench without looking at Jimmy or Gord again.  "Yeah, I'll work on 'er.  It'll be a pleasure."

Jimmy bit back a snicker.  "There you go, Gord.  I won't even charge you."

"As well you shouldn't!" Gord replied indignantly.  "You didn't even do any wor-- I mean, uh, thank you," he amended when Jimmy gave him a threatening look.

"That's more like it."  Jimmy thumped Gord on the back.  "You two have fun."  As he walked out of the garage, he chuckled to himself.  He had a feeling Vance and Gord would get along just fine.

\--

After Jimmy left, Gord stood awkwardly in the doorway to the garage.  He wasn't too sure that it was a good idea to let the greaser mess with his expensive bike, but he didn't really have much of a choice.  He watched Vance's broad back as he tinkered with the bike.  A moment later, Vance cast him an irritated glance over his shoulder.

"You gonna just stand there, or are you comin' in?  I don't bite."

Gord slunk in and stood next to the greaser.  "I didn't want to interfere with your. . . work."  Now that he got a good look, it seemed that Vance was groping his bicycle more than attempting to fix it.

"How'd this happen?"  Vance tapped a bent spoke with the wrench.

"I wasn't looking where I was going."  Gord decided not to tell him the full story; the cretin would probably beat him up if he knew Gord looked at other boys like that.

"Hmph.  How could you be so careless with a beauty like this?"

"I don't need a lecture," Gord snapped.  "Just fix it!"

Vance scowled and set down the wrench.  "I can't."

" _What?_   Look, I told Jimmy I'd pay him double to fix it.  I'll. . . I'll pay you triple, when I get the money."

"It's not the money.  I'd do it for free, just to get to work on 'er.  But she's gonna need a whole new wheel-- look, this spoke is snapped."  Vance raked a hand through his hair, which was a beautiful shade of chestnut and would have looked quite good if it wasn't full of gel.  "You'll have to take it to the bike shop."

Gord's shoulders slumped.  "I can't.  I don't have any money."

"You?  Ha.  All you twerps are loaded."

"How many times am I going to have to explain this?" Gord exploded.  "I'm broke, okay?  And before you ask, none of my friends will loan me anything.  It would be social suicide, even if they wanted to."  He sighed and rubbed at his temples.  "I might as well confess to Derby and get it over with.  Christ, he'll probably kick me out of Harrington House.  I'll have to sleep in the _dorm_ again.  Ugh."

"Sounds like you need new friends more than a new wheel," Vance observed.

"What?  I'll have you know, my friends are worth their weight in gold!"

"Maybe so, but only if you _have_ gold."  Vance shook his head.  "Oh well.  Your friends ain't my problem."

"Yes, thank you, you were a huge help," Gord spat, reaching for his bike.  Vance pushed his hand away and picked up the bike himself, setting it on the ground.

"I said your friends ain't my problem.  Your bike is.  Jimmy asked me to help you out, so I'll do it.  I got some credit down at the bike shop, so I'll get you a new wheel if you promise to pay me back."

Gord stared at him.  "You're-- you're kidding.  You'd do that for _me_?  Just because of Hopkins?"

Vance smoothed down his hair.  "Actually, it's 'cos I feel sorry for you."  Gord spluttered indignantly, but Vance ignored him and started wheeling the bike towards the door.  "We'd better hurry; it's getting dark.  Come on if you're coming."

To Gord's relief, they didn't pass any of the other preps on the way to town; the last thing he needed was for them to see him in the company of a greaser.  Gord's brief affair with Lola had been acceptable to his friends only because it had pissed Johnny Vincent off, though that hadn't been Gord's reason for doing it.  He had pursued Lola because it made him feel naughty, and he liked feeling naughty.  But then, kissing boys made him feel naughty in spades, and it was a lot more satisfying than dating a money vacuum like Lola.  Too bad his friends would never understand.

Vance was whistling as he wheeled Gord's bike into the Bullworth Vale Shiny Bikes store.  _He's having fun pretending my bicycle belongs to **him**!_ Gord thought crossly.

"Vance!  How's it going?" the store owner asked when he saw the greaser.

"Got a bit of a problem."  Vance wheeled the bike up to the counter and gestured towards Gord.  "My friend here had a little accident.  You got a wheel that'll fit this beauty?"

_His friend?_ Gord thought blankly.  _I don't even know him!_   He could hardly believe that anyone, much less a greaser, would accept him so quickly.

"Ouch.  That looks pretty bad."  The owner looked the bike over, then nodded.  "Yeah, I got one.  Not cheap though."  He glanced at Gord.  "You look like you can afford it."

"Actually I wanna pay for it with my credit," Vance said quickly.  The owner blinked at him, then looked at Gord more carefully.

"Okay then.  You want me to put the wheel on for you?"  Gord nodded.

When the owner took the bike to the back of the shop, Vance looked over at Gord again.  "You're awful quiet.  I didn't think you could go five minutes without shooting off your mouth."

Gord bit back a retort and instead said quietly, "It's your territory."

The corner of Vance's wide mouth twitched in a half-smile.  "Sure is."  _He really isn't bad looking,_ Gord thought.  Vance's nose was sort of big, but he had expressive green eyes and the suggestion of a nice body under his bulky jacket.  Gord turned away and pretended to be studying a rack of bike helmets.

"I hope this isn't cutting into your plans for the evening," he said after a moment.

"Nah."  Vance chuckled a little.  "I was gonna skip dinner anyway.  Edna's cooking is startin' to get to me."

_Just what I wanted to hear_ , Gord thought with a smile.  "You know, my parents have a running account at the Vale Hotel for when they come to visit.  If you don't want to wait for me to pay you back in cash, I could buy you dinner there.  They'll take it out of my allowance."

"The food there costs as much as a new wheel?"

Actually a meal at the hotel would probably cost _more_ than the bike wheel, but Gord said quickly, "It would be a start at repayment, anyway."

"Hmm.  They got burgers?"

"Er, well, they have steak."

"That works."  Vance leaned against the counter next to him and grinned.  "I haven't had a decent meal in weeks.  Been too busy in the shop to go out, and I can only stand so much cafeteria food."

_So that's how the other half lives_ , Gord thought in disgust.  _Imagine having to actually eat in the cafeteria!_

The shop owner returned with Gord's bicycle before he could say anything else.  Gord was suitably impressed; it looked good as new.

"Thank you, sir," he said as sweetly as he could manage.

"Yeah, well take better care of it this time," the owner grumbled.  "Vance, I hate to tell you this, son, but that about eats up your credit for that last trade in."

"It's okay."  Vance appeared to be too busy staring at the bike to pay much attention to him.  "I'll have some more parts to bring in next week."

As they walked outside with the bike, Vance asked shyly, "Do you mind if I, uh, ride her a little ways?"

"All right."  Gord handed the bike over to Vance, who straddled it almost reverently.

"Wow.  If I ever get some extra cash, I'm getting one exactly like this.  Only, uh, not this girly blue color."

"It is not girly!" Gord sniffed.  "It's fashionable."

"Whatever you say," Vance smirked.  He pushed off the ground with one foot and pedaled around Gord in a circle.  "She's so smooth. . . ."

The sun had completely set, and despite the streetlights Gord was a bit worried that Vance wouldn't be able to see well and would re-wreck the bike.  "Come on, let's go eat.  I'm starved."

Vance pedaled along beside him slowly as they passed the couple blocks between the bike shop and the hotel.  Gord glanced at him with a warm feeling in his chest; it was nice being around someone easy to please for once.  No asking for presents like Lola or the preppy girls, no whining about inconsequential matters like his male friends.  No copping an attitude like Jimmy Hopkins, good kisser though he was.

Vance reluctantly got off the bike when they reached the hotel, and Gord chained it to a nearby rack.  He started towards the restaurant's entrance, but Vance hung back.

"Uh, you mind if we sit outside?"

Gord looked at him over his shoulder.  "But it's night!"

"Yeah, I know, but. . . I get nervous in fancy places like that."  Vance looked down at his grease-stained jeans awkwardly.  "I don't exactly fit in."

He had a point, but they were more likely to be seen together outside.  Gord hesitated, then shrugged off his apprehension.  Aquaberry had closed for the evening, so if any of the other preps were in town, they'd probably be at the boxing club, not over near the hotel.

"All right, we can sit outside."  He sat down at one of the tables with a relieved-looking Vance across from him.  When the waiter brought them menus, Gord snatched Vance's away without letting him look at it.  He didn't want Vance to see how expensive the food was, in case the greaser would change his mind about dinner.

When Vance protested, Gord smiled.  "Just order what you want."

Vance ended up with the biggest steak Gord had ever seen, well done, with a baked potato and salad.  "You really _are_ hungry," Gord muttered as he watched the greaser tear into the meat.

"You would be too if you had to survive on Edna's cooking," Vance mumbled around a mouthful of potato.  "Sometimes I wish my parents lived in town.  They drive me nuts, but at least I could eat decent."

"Mine don't live here either," Gord commented, eating his own meal of mahi mahi more demurely.  "Some of my friends' parents actually moved to Bullworth Vale from other towns so their kids could go to school here without having to live on campus, but I don't mind living in Harrington House."

"Wow.  My parents barely had enough to send me to school here.  There's no way they coulda moved here too."

Gord was suddenly embarrassed that he had mentioned his friends.  Vance didn't seem to be particularly ashamed of being poor, but Gord felt rather callous nonetheless.  _But how am I supposed to know what to talk about with him?_ he tried to reason with himself.  _I've never associated with anyone who wasn't rich other than Lola, and **she** brought it up all the time, just to get presents out of me._

"So what do you do for fun?" Vance asked as he finished off his steak, shaking Gord from his thoughts.

"Well, I like to go shopping," Gord began, scowling when he saw Vance smirk.  "Sometimes I go to the boxing club to watch the fights, but I don't box myself.  And I race my bike."

"Really?"  Vance's smirk was immediately replaced with a look of keen interest.  "I race too, in New Coventry, but I've never seen you there."

"Oh I don't race _there_ ," Gord said without thinking.  "I only race in the Vale."

"Oh."  Vance looked down at his nearly empty plate and poked at the potato skin with his fork.  "I guess I wouldn't see you around, in that case."

Gord felt guilty once more.  "You ought to come race with us one weekend.  I'm sure the boys wouldn't mind--"

"No thanks.  I feel weird enough coming to the bike shop over here on your turf."

Gord leaned towards him across the table.  "And I feel weird getting anywhere near _your_ 'turf,' as you call it.  Maybe. . . maybe you and I could race sometime, just the two of us.  Then neither of us would have to feel too odd about it."

Vance looked at him thoughtfully, then smiled.  "Maybe."

When the waiter brought the check, Gord signed his dad's name to it without even looking at the total cost of the meal, then laid it on the edge of the table for the waiter to pick up.  He didn't even notice Vance sneaking a look at it until the greaser swore rather loudly.

"Dammit, you didn't tell me a steak cost _that_ much!"

Flushing, Gord snatched the bill away from him.  "You weren't supposed to see that!"

"But it's more than the new wheel cost, even with labor!" Vance protested.

"Don't worry about it," Gord said firmly as he stood up.

"But. . . ."  Vance followed him over to the bike rack.  "But now _I_ owe _you_!"

"No, you don't."

Vance plucked Gord's hand off the bike lock.  "I'm not gonna be indebted to no one.  Look, I got some cash on me.  You wanna hit a movie and let me pay for it?  Then we'll be even.  Uh, if you're not doing anything else tonight."

_By God, this is turning into a regular date!_ Gord thought, pleased.  "All right," he said aloud, "if that will convince you that you don't owe me anything."

Vance bought two tickets to what appeared to be some abominable action flick, the proceeded to get the biggest bag of M&Ms Gord had ever seen at the concession counter.  Gord had no idea how Vance could possibly eat anything else after the huge meal, but the greaser already had the bag open by the time they sat down to wait for the movie to start.

"Want some?" he asked Gord around a mouthful of candy, holding out the bag to him.

"Uh, no, that’s all right."  As the previews started, Gord watched Vance out of the corner of his eye.  Vance laughed loudly during the comedy previews, then complained just as loudly ten minutes later when the actual movie hadn’t started.  In short, he was everything Gord usually avoided in a date-- yet this time he didn’t mind.

_It’s not like it really **is** a date,_ he told himself.  Then he thought guiltily, _No matter how much I wish it were_.

The movie was as bad as Gord had feared it would be, but Vance seemed to be enjoying it for all its car chases and gun fights.  Gord took the opportunity to study the engrossed greaser in the dim light cast by the screen.  He had taken off his jacket to reveal a muscular chest in a tight white t-shirt, which Gord duly admired.  He had an indecipherable tattoo up near his left shoulder; Gord couldn’t tell what it was in the poor light, but it was probably something tasteless.  Vance’s ragged, dirty jeans were as tight as his shirt, pulled taut over his thighs.  Gord had to force himself to look away.

_Why didn’t I ever notice him before?_ Gord wondered.  _Just because he’s a greaser?_   _He’s gorgeous, no matter who he hangs out with._   He tried to concentrate on the movie, but it wouldn’t have held his interest even without Vance less than a foot away from him.  Gord reached for the M&Ms without looking-- anything to distract himself-- and his hand collided with Vance’s.

"Oh, s-sorry," Vance stammered.  He held the bag out to Gord.  "Here, you can take it."  Gord took the bag from him, deliberately rubbing his fingers against Vance’s.  The greaser bit his lip and smiled at him shyly.  Gord felt his own cheeks flush as he turned back to the movie screen.  Normally he would have taken the smile for encouragement-- hell, normally he would have already put the moves on Vance.  But Gord still didn't entirely trust him.  He _was_ a greaser, hot or not, and for all Gord knew this might all be an elaborate set up.  Hopkins might even be in on it.  Gord had a frightful mental image of trying to kiss Vance and getting a fist in the face instead-- or worse, getting his picture snapped by Jimmy, just like the last time he had tried to make it with a hot brunette in a leather jacket.

The movie finally ended, and the boys emerged from the theater with the rest of the crowd.

"Guess I'll take the bus back to campus," Vance muttered as Gord unlocked his bike from the rack.  "Unless. . . unless you want me to walk back with you.  It's kinda late to be out by yourself."

Gord knew he should tell Vance to take the bus-- and really, it wasn't like he couldn't take care of himself for the short distance between the Vale and Bullworth Academy.  But when he glanced up at Vance and found the greaser looking back at him hopefully, Gord couldn't resist.

"Thank you, I'd appreciate it."

They walked back towards the school in silence, Gord pushing his repaired bicycle along with Vance at his side.  As they neared the side entrance to Bullworth Academy, Gord groped for something to say.

"Vance?"

"Yeah?"

"I never thanked you properly for taking care of my bicycle.  So. . . uh, thank you."

"Yeah, well.  I can't let a pretty bike like that suffer."  Vance grinned at him.  "And thanks for dinner."  He stopped by the broken-down school bus near the auto shop's back entrance.  "If you run into any more bike trouble, let me know."  He patted the seat of Gord's bicycle lovingly.  "I'd love to get to do some real work on her."

"I'll come straight to you," Gord promised.  He fidgeted with the handlebars a moment, trying to think of an excuse to stick around, then gave up and turned towards the school.

"Hey, uh, you still up for that race?  One on one?" Vance called after him.

Gord smirked at him over his shoulder.  "Oh yes, you're on."

"Just let me know when. I'll be around."

By the time Gord got back to Harrington House, it was almost eleven o'clock.  He made it inside just before curfew and was on his way up to his room when Derby cornered him.

"Where _were_ you?" Derby sulked.  "You missed an _excellent_ match at the boxing club.  I made quite a bit of money off of Bif tonight," he added with a smug smile.

"I was getting my bicycle repaired at the Vale shop," Gord replied, a bit jealous of Derby's winnings.  As soon as he got his allowance, he decided, he'd get Jimmy Hopkins to go fight and bet on _him_.  Hopkins was a sure win.

"It took that peon _that_ long to fix it?  You've been gone all evening!"

"There was quite a lot of damage," Gord sniffed.  "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get to bed.  I've had a long day."

"Of course, carry on."  Derby dismissed him with a wave of his hand.  Relieved to have escaped without further questioning, Gord hurried up to his room and locked the door behind him.  After he got into bed, he lay awake, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Vance.

_I should avoid him from now on,_ Gord told himself.  _In fact, I shouldn't even have taken him to dinner in the first place.  I can't get involved with a greaser!  And who's to say he even wants to get involved with me?  Just because he looked at me like that. . . like he wanted to spend time with me. . . .  It's probably all just a trick.  He'll probably go tell Johnny Vincent all about how he got one over on me, just like Lola did._

Yet despite all of the warnings he gave himself, Gord couldn't believe that Vance was anything like Lola.  By the time Gord fell asleep, he was already thinking up excuses to give the other preps on Saturday, so he could go race Vance alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Gord got up early on Saturday morning and stood in front of his dresser, trying to decide what to wear.  He wanted to look nice to see Vance, but he also didn't want to dress _too_ formally.  He might get dirty racing, and besides, he didn't want to make Vance uncomfortable by appearing too far out of his league.  He finally decided on a white Aquaberry polo shirt and a pair of slacks from last season.  Hopelessly out of style if he had been going to race with the other preps, but he doubted Vance would notice.

Harrington House was quiet; most of the other preps were still asleep after a long night at the boxing club.  Gord slipped out without seeing anyone and unlocked his bike from the rack before crossing the courtyard to the auto shop.  A few of the jocks were on their way to football practice, but no one else was in sight.

_Good_ , Gord thought as he ducked into the auto shop entrance.  _The last thing I need is for someone to see me coming over here._   He just hoped Vance would be around.

Gord crept up to the nearest garage and peeked in.  One of the greasers was in there working on a bike with his back to Gord, but he was way too husky to be Vance.  Gord slipped past the garage and went to the next one.  Gord was relieved to see Vance inside when he looked in the door.  Even better, the greaser was alone.

"Hello there," Gord purred as he walked his bike into the garage.  Vance turned and broke into a smile when he saw him.

"Hey, what's up?"  He gave the bike a slightly nervous glance.  "You haven't banged 'er up again, have you?"

"No, of course not.  I just wanted to see if you were up for a little race today."

Vance grinned.  "Sure.  Lemme go get my bike.  I'll meet you out by the bus, okay?"

Gord waited by the old bus until Vance emerged from the auto shop, wheeling a rather beat-up mountain bike.  "Ready to get your ass kicked?" the greaser asked teasingly.

"We'll see about that.  Where do you want to race?"

"How 'bout over here, on the dirt road behind the school?"  Vance led Gord to a path that branched off from the back entrance to the school.  "Whoever gets to the industrial park and back first, wins."

"Sounds good to me."  Gord straddled his bike and waited for Vance to mount his.  "Ready?"

Vance winked at him and took off.  "I'm way ahead of you!"

"Cheater!" Gord yelled after him, grinning all the same as he started pedaling.  He managed to catch up to Vance fairly quickly, and they raced down the dirt road at a break-neck pace, yelling joking insults at one another.  Gord was ahead by the time they reached the edge of the industrial park-- as much as he was attracted to Vance, he wasn't about to let him win on purpose-- but the greaser gained on him and passed him on the way back, and Vance was the first to return to the starting point.

"Ha!  I _own_ your ass!" Vance crowed as he jumped off his bike and let it fall to the ground.

_I wish!_ Gord couldn't help thinking as he leaned his own bike against the wall and sank down to sit on the grass, panting.  "Okay, okay, you win.  This time."  Vance pulled off his jacket and dropped it on top of his bike, then sat down next to Gord.

"That's the most fun I've had in a while," Vance commented as he drew his fingers through his sweaty hair.

"Me too."  It was the truth.  Racing with Vance was a nice change from his usual competitions against the other preps.  They always took it so seriously, as if winning mattered more than their friendship.  Gord knew he was just as bad; he hated to lose to them.  But he honestly didn't mind losing to Vance, and he knew the greaser would have had just as much fun if _he_ had lost.

He looked over at Vance, who was leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed, still catching his breath.  He could see the greaser's tattoo clearly now; it was of a heart crossed with two strands of barbed wire.  One had to wonder what _that_ meant.

Gord's eyes traveled down Vance's body.  His t-shirt was soaked with sweat, and his jeans appeared to be even more ragged than the pair he had been wearing at the movies.  He was a mess-- but he was a gorgeous mess, and Gord thought he'd do almost anything to be in Vance's arms and pressed against that muscular body, sweaty or not.

Gord glanced up at the greaser's face to find Vance's green eyes open and regarding him curiously.  Gord felt his cheeks grow hot, and he fumbled for an excuse as to why he had been staring.

"That's an, ah, interesting tattoo you have," he finally managed.

"Oh, this?"  Vance rubbed his hand over his tattoo and gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle.  "Got it when I was thirteen and going through an emo phase.  My parents were having some trouble, so I decided I wasn't never gonna get involved with anyone, all that usual thirteen-year-old crap."

"Your parents let you get a tattoo when you were thirteen?" Gord gaped.

"Hell no, I forged Mom's name on the permission form.  She flipped when she found out."  Vance laughed at the memory.  "I like to think that's why she and Dad got back together-- they were both so pissed at me, they realized they still had something in common after all.  So I decided to keep the tat even after I got over the goth shit."  He laced his fingers behind his head and looked over at Gord.  "You got any?"

"Tattoos?  Heavens, no!"  Gord shuddered at the thought of a needle getting anywhere near him.  "I don't know what I would get one of, anyhow.  I don't like anything well enough to wear it on my arm for the rest of my life."

"It wouldn't have to go on your arm, you know," Vance said with a little smile.  "I'm thinking of getting another one soon, right here."  He pointed to a spot on his lower abdomen.  Gord had to make a conscious effort not to lick his lips at the thought.

"But no one would see it there!"

"The right person would."  Vance put his hands behind his head again.  "What do you think I should get?  I can't decide."

"Goodness, I don't know.  I'd say more barbed wire but that might scare off. . . um, the 'right person' if you put it _there_."

Vance laughed out loud.  "Good point.  Oh well, I got plenty of time to decide.  I can't afford it right now anyway.  So let's decide what _you're_ gonna get, instead."

" _Me_?  But I said--"

"You scared?" Vance smirked.

"As a matter of fact, yes!  I hate needles."

"It's not that bad, really.  I'll just get you good and drunk first."

"I couldn't possibly be drunk enough to get anywhere near a needle voluntarily," Gord protested.

"I'll hold your hand the whole time," Vance wheedled.  "You won't feel a thing, promise."

Gord's heart beat a little faster.  "Well, in _that_ case. . . .  What did you have in mind?"

"Hmm, definitely something old school."  Vance looked at him thoughtfully.  "Maybe a swallow."

"A swallow?  Like, the bird?"

"Yeah.  It can mean all kinds of stuff, but some people say it's a sign of wealth."  Vance smiled a little.  "It also means loyalty.  So, are you loyal?"

"To the right person," Gord replied coyly.  "Where would it go?"

"If you didn't want it to show all the time, maybe on the back of your shoulder.  Like here."  Vance leaned forward and reached over Gord's shoulder to touch his back just above the left shoulder blade.  "Or maybe," Vance said more softly, "here."  He moved his hand down to rest on the small of Gord's back.  Gord caught his breath at the greaser's touch.

"There?  You think so?"

"Yeah."  A faint blush crept over Vance's cheeks as he murmured, "It would be really hot."

It was all Gord could do to keep his voice steady.  "Then I might consider it.  As long as no one sees it."

"Not even me?"  God, but those full lips could pout.  Every last one of Gord's apprehensions disappeared; there was no way Vance could look at him like that and be leading him on.

"You can see it-- if I get to see yours.  Here."  Gord touched the spot Vance had indicated on his stomach.

"Yeah," Vance breathed.  "I'd let you look."  He pressed gently on Gord's back, coaxing him closer as he leaned forward, then hesitated.

Gord couldn't wait one second longer; he leaned up and pressed his mouth to Vance's.  Vance's other hand joined the first behind Gord's back as he pulled the prep against him.

Gord was never one to let an opportunity pass him by.  He wrapped his arms around Vance's neck and thrust his tongue firmly into the other boy's mouth.  Vance made a surprised noise, then opened his mouth wider and wrestled Gord's tongue with his own.  Gord rubbed up against him, enticed by the feel of the greaser's muscular body against his.  Vance finally broke the kiss to catch his breath, still clutching Gord to his chest.  
  
"It's been a long time since anyone kissed me like _that_ ," Gord murmured appreciatively.  He stroked the back of the greaser's neck lightly with his fingertips.  "You're _good_."

"S-so are you.  I. . . didn't think you'd like it.  I thought you liked girls.  Like Lola."  
  
Gord smirked.  "I like boys better."  He kissed the side of Vance's neck, causing the greaser to moan faintly and tilt his head back.  "She can't even begin to compare to _you_."  He continued kissing Vance's neck, working his way around to the greaser's throat, then caught his mouth again.  As they kissed, Vance's hand crept under Gord's shirt to stroke his lower back.  Gord shivered at the feeling of the greaser's rough hands against his bare skin.

They kissed for several minutes, until Vance sat back, panting slightly.  "What. . . what time is it?"

Gord glanced at his Aquaberry watch.  "Almost eleven.  Why?"

"Dammit, I was supposed to meet Johnny and the guys in New Coventry."  He blushed and gave Gord an embarrassed smile.  "You made me forget all about 'em."

"You can go on, then," Gord said reluctantly.  "I have a chemistry test on Monday I need to study for anyway.  Just like old Watts to give us a test the second week of school."

Vance stood and helped Gord to his feet.  "I hope I didn't keep you from studying this morning."

"Mm, not at all.  I wouldn't have been able to concentrate anyway."  Gord trailed his fingers slowly across Vance's chest.  "Ever since the other night. . . you've been the only thing on my mind."

"You mean it?"  Vance put his hand over Gord's and held it against his chest.  "I been thinkin' about you too."  He brought Gord's hand to his lips and kissed it softly.  "You think maybe you'd have time to, uh, go out for burgers or somethin' tomorrow night?"

Gord stroked Vance's cheek.  "I'll make time.  How does 6:30 sound?  I'll meet you there."

"Yeah, that's good."  Vance leaned down and kissed him again before picking up his jacket and putting it back on.  "And you think about that tattoo, okay?" he added with a wink as he got on his bike.

"I'll be thinking a lot more about yours," Gord purred.

After Vance rode off, Gord slowly wheeled his bike back to Harrington House.  Studying was the last thing he wanted to do, and if Vance hadn't had a reason to leave, Gord would have happily failed the chemistry test in order to spend more time with him.

_It's just as well though_ , he thought as he chained his bike and went inside.  _If he blows off Johnny Vincent, the greasers might start to get suspicious.  I can't let anyone find out about us. . . ._

Gord finally settled down to study his notes, but every other thought was of getting to see Vance again the next night.


	3. Chapter 3

Sunday crept by.  Gord studied for as long as he could stand it, then went down to Aquaberry with Bif and Chad, just for something to do.  It wasn't the best idea since Gord didn't have any money and had to make excuses why he wasn't buying anything.  Finally six o'clock arrived and Gord left the store, explaining that he needed to go study some more.  After a hard look around to be sure no one was watching, he got on his bike and headed for the burger joint.

Gord sat down at a table and worried for the next ten minutes that Vance wouldn't show up, but the greaser walked in at 6:20, breaking into a grin when he saw Gord.

"Hey," he said shyly as he came over to Gord's table.  "How's it goin'?"

"Wonderfully, now that you're here," Gord cooed, standing up and brushing Vance's hand with his own.

Vance blushed.  "You're such a romantic.  I never woulda guessed."  He cast a longing look at Gord, then nodded towards the counter.  "You hungry?  Let's hurry up and eat, then we can, uh, go somewhere else."

Vance's idea of eating was apparently cramming two cheeseburgers down his throat as quickly as possible.  He had already finished before Gord was more than a few bites into his sandwich.

"How'd the studyin' go?" Vance asked as he slurped at his soda.

"If I can't diagram an atom by now, I'll never be able to."  Gord sighed, then frowned towards the door of the restaurant.  "Hey, aren't those some of your friends?"

Vance looked over his shoulder at two greasers who had just walked in; one of them was the guy Gord had seen in the garage the day before.  "Oh, yeah.  Hal and Lucky."  To Gord's horror, Vance waved at the guys and they approached the table.

"Hey Vance," the chubby one said.  He gave Gord a funny look.  "What's he doing here?"

"He's eatin', what does it look like?"  The other greaser chuckled at his own comment.

"Funny, Lucky.  Gord's all right," Vance said firmly.  "Got it?"

"Sure man," Lucky said.  He stuck out his hand, which Gord shook reluctantly.

Hal still didn't look convinced.  "Are you after Lola again or somethin'?" he asked Gord.  "'Cos if you mess with her, we ain't gonna treat you as nice as last time."

"No, I'm not after Lola!" Gord spat.  "Let me assure you, my tastes have improved _greatly_ since last winter."  Vance smiled at that.

"If you say so.  Just watch yourself, richie."

"Leave him alone, Hal."  Vance half-stood and looked up at Hal threateningly.  The chubby greaser held up his hands in submission and took a step backwards.

"Whoa, whoa, okay.  What's with you?"

"He's my friend."  Vance settled back into his chair.

"Okay, sure.  If he's with you, he must be all right."  Hal gave Gord a nervous smile as he and Lucky headed for the counter.  "Sorry for the misunderstandin', pal."

"Thanks for standing up for me," Gord murmured to Vance.

"Aw, it was nothin'."  Vance smiled at him and put his hand on Gord's knee under the table, squeezing it a little.  "I'm not gonna let nobody pick on you, not even if they're my friend."  He stood up and scooped up his food wrappers to put in the trash.  "Let's get outta here before they decide to sit with us or something.  I wanna be alone with you."

Gord followed him out of the restaurant and up the street stairs to a more private, tree-lined part of town.  As soon as they were out of sight of the street, Vance slipped his arms around Gord's waist, holding him close.  Gord leaned up on his toes and kissed him, but his mind kept returning to the other greasers.  What if they told someone that Gord had been hanging out with Vance, and it got back to the other preps?  Or what if they got suspicious and realized that Gord was doing a lot more with Vance than just hanging out?  Gord's reputation could be ruined, just because of those two--

Vance broke off the kiss and looked down at Gord worriedly.  "What's wrong?"

"Hunh?  Oh, nothing's wrong."

"Yeah it is.  You're a million miles away."  Vance touched Gord's cheek gently.  "Did I do somethin' wrong?"

"No, I just. . . ."  Gord looked away.  "I was just thinking about your friends.  I wish they hadn't seen us."

"Oh, them."  Vance gave a relieved laugh.  "Baby, don't worry about them.  They won't give you any trouble, I promise."

"I'm not worried about _that_.  But what if they start talking?  Like what if, uh, Johnny Vincent finds out you're hanging out with me?"

Vance smiled down at him tenderly.  "You know what?  I don't care.  I don't even care if they know I'm makin' it with you.  If they're really my friends, it won't matter to them.  And if it does matter to them-- you're way more important."

Gord's eyes widened.  Vance was _serious_.  "But-- it might get back to Derby and--"  He broke off as Vance's face fell.

"Oh. . . you're worried that _your_ friends will find out."

"Well. . . yes!  They're. . . you don't understand what it's like.  It's not just that you're greaser; it's that you're a _guy_.  If Derby knew I kissed another boy, I'd be ruined!"

Vance was silent for a long, terrible moment, then he dropped his arms from around Gord's waist.  "Yeah, you're right.  I _don't_ understand."

"They're just a different kind of people from your friends.  They--"

"No, I understand _that_.  What I don't get is that. . . ."  Vance looked away as if he were trying to gather his thoughts.  "I don't understand why your reputation is more important than. . . than doing what makes you happy.  Unless your reputation makes you happier than I do."

"No, of course not!  But-- oh, never mind."  Gord threw his hands in the air.  "Forget I said anything."

It was obvious from Vance's expression that it would be impossible for him to forget.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet, then turned away.  "I better go."

Gord felt like someone had clenched a fist around his heart, but it only made him react with more frustration.  "Don't get mad at _me_ for the way society works!"

"I'm not mad," Vance mumbled even as he started walking away.  He stopped after a few steps and said, still looking down, "I thought we had somethin' started, you know?  Even after just a couple days--"  His voice trembled on the last word, and he broke off and walked away quickly without looking back.

On the bike ride back to the school, and for the first ten minutes he spent furiously pacing his room in Harrington House, Gord was angry.  How could a nobody like Vance expect him to just give up _everything_ \-- his friends, his status, his reputation-- the first time he ran into a hot piece of ass in tight jeans?  _I kissed him for the first time yesterday, and he already thinks he can control me!_ Gord thought.  _Well, I'll show him!  I'll--_   Gord sat down heavily on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.  _I'll be miserable without him._

Gord tried to distract himself with his chemistry notes, but the diagram of boron kept wavering before his eyes.  Finally he turned on his computer in the hopes that he could find something to divert his attention.  He was surprised to find that he had received an email from his father-- usually Daddy Dearest was too busy to communicate much with his only son.  Gord was even more surprised to read the email and discover that his father had already deposited his next allowance payment into his bank account.

"After considering your situation," the email read, "I've realized how your desire to present yourself respectably might have overwhelmed your judgment.  I trust you have learned to show more discretion in the future."

"Thank goodness the old man came around," Gord muttered to himself.  "At least I don't have to worry about money now."  It didn't make him feel much better though.  Having money wouldn't get Vance back, or solve the problems between them.


	4. Chapter 4

The next two days were hell for Gord.  He managed to concentrate long enough on Monday to give a decent shot at his chemistry test, but any other coherent thought was a lost cause.  He avoided the auto shop at all costs, knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep it together if he saw Vance.  Gord still managed to get angry about the situation for short intervals at first, but by the time afternoon classes were over on Tuesday, he was no longer mad, just lonely.

Some of the other preps were going to a movie after school, and Gord decided to go along in a last-ditch effort to get Vance off his mind.  However, as he followed them to the theater on his bike and listened to their conversation-- gossip about how Chad, who wasn't with them, had been caught flirting with the nerdy girl Beatrice-- Gord found himself ceasing to care about what had seemed so important a few days before.

So this was the worst they could do to him, exclude him from some outing and then talk about him behind his back.  Of course Derby _could_ have him thrown out of Harrington House if provoked enough-- but maybe there was a way around that, a way to get some sort of leverage against Derby.  Gord made a mental note to talk to Jimmy Hopkins about that; if anyone had blackmail material against Derby Harrington, it would be Hopkins.

 _And if that doesn't work,_ Gord thought, _I'll graduate next year anyway. . . .  I can stand eighteen months in the dorm.  And even eighteen months of cafeteria food if it means I can be with **him**. . . ._

When they got to the theater, Gord announced that he had changed his mind about seeing the movie.  He got a couple bewildered looks, but most of his friends were still too caught up in the Chad and Beatrice saga to even notice he didn't enter the theater with them.

 _I have to apologize and make it up to him somehow,_ Gord thought as he wheeled his bike across the courtyard.  _I just hope he'll take me back. . . ._   He tried not to think about the possibility that Vance would reject him.  Working up the nerve to apologize was hard enough without worrying that it wouldn't work.

As Gord passed Aquaberry, he slowed out of habit to check the displays in the window.  His eyes fell on a selection of gold bracelets, and the idea struck him to buy Vance a gift with his newly deposited allowance.  It probably wouldn't help his case if the greaser was set against forgiving him, but Vance deserved it no matter what.  When Gord rode back to the school half an hour later, he had a white gold bracelet in his pocket, reasoning that the white gold would look better with Vance's jacket than regular yellow gold would.

He rode into the back entrance of the school and went straight to the auto shop, but none of the greasers were around.  Gord finally came across Hal in one of the garages, grumbling as he changed a bike tire.

"Um, hello," Gord said reluctantly.  "Do you know where Vance is?"

"They're all racin' over in New Coventry."  Hal seemed too annoyed at his bike to be hostile towards Gord.  "Stupid piece of crap tire blew out on me, so I couldn't go."  He vindictively kicked a deflated bike tire lying on the ground.  "I'm surprised Vance went though."

"Oh?  Why's that?"  Gord tried to sound casual.

"He hasn't been doin' squat the past couple days.  Somethin's eatin' him."  Hal looked at Gord.  "You're his friend.  You know what's wrong?"

"Uh, no, I haven't seen him since Sunday."

"Oh. . . well it must be pretty serious."  Hal lowered his voice and leaned toward Gord confidentially.  "Don't tell nobody but I came in early yesterday to get some parts, and he was in here-- I swear he was cryin'.  He left in a big hurry, wouldn't let me see his face."  Hal frowned and gave his fresh tire a spin with his hand.  "Good fit-- maybe it'll hold up longer than the last one.  But anyway, I think he's got some serious shit goin' on.  Maybe it's his parents.  If you see him, try to cheer him up, hunh?"

"Y-yeah, I'll--"  Gord bit his lip and took a deep breath.  "You know when he'll be back?"

"We usually crash over in the tenements when we race evenings like this.  He probably won't be back until afternoon classes tomorrow."

"Okay.  Thanks."

As Gord was walking out of the garage, Hal called after him, "If I see him, want me to tell him you're lookin' for him?"

"No.  I'll find him tomorrow," Gord muttered.

Gord was certain he'd go insane before classes finished the next afternoon.  When the last bell finally rang, he all but ran to the auto shop.  This time the place was crawling with greasers, and Gord almost lost his nerve.  He fingered the bracelet in his pocket for a minute, then gathered his courage and walked into the shop yard.  A couple of the greasers yelled for him to get lost, but Gord forced himself to ignore them.

Vance was in one of the garages with Lucky and an unfamiliar guy in a denim jacket.  Lucky noticed Gord first and gave him a friendly smile.

"Hey man, how's it going?"

Vance glanced up to see who Lucky was talking to, then stared when he saw Gord.  Gord's heart tried its best to crawl up into his throat.

"C-can I. . . talk to you for a minute?" he asked Vance shakily.  _He's going to say no_ , Gord thought.  _He's going to tell me to get lost like the others did, or just punch my lights out, or--_

"Yeah," Vance said.  He handed the wrench he was holding to Lucky without taking his eyes off Gord.  Lucky gave Vance a puzzled look, then shrugged at Denim Jacket.

Neither Vance nor Gord spoke as they walked outside the shop yard and stood near the entrance, out of sight of the other greasers.  Gord couldn't look at Vance without feeling overwhelmed with how much he wanted him.

"I'm sorry," Gord blurted out, staring down at his shoes.  "If it's too late, I understand, I don't blame you, but--"

"No, _I'm_ sorry."  Vance put his hands on Gord's shoulders.  "I shouldn't have got upset.  I was askin' too much from you.  I was gonna tell you, but then you didn't come around, and I thought. . .  I thought you didn't. . . want to bother with me anymore."  His hands tightened on Gord's shoulders as he went on, "I won't tell anybody about us, I promise, and I'll only see you when you want me to, when nobody's around-- just please, say you'll give it a try."

Gord couldn't speak at first.  He put his arms around Vance, sliding them under the greaser's leather jacket, and leaned against his chest.  Vance hugged him tightly, and Gord felt the greaser's lips brush his neck.

"I don't care anymore," Gord finally mumbled.  "I'll kiss you in front of Derby himself if you want me to.  They don't make me happy; you do."

"You-- you don't have to risk--"

"Yes.  I do."  Gord looked up at him with a weak smile.  "I think you're worth raising hell over, and I have to prove it to you.  And besides," he added to lighten their mood, "Hal was pretty worried about you yesterday.  I have a feeling he would have squashed me if he had known it was my fault you were upset, so I have my own safety to consider."

Vance laughed, the sweetest sound Gord had heard in a long time.  "He's a pushover, really.  He just looks tough."  Vance stroked Gord's cheek with his thumb, then slipped his hand around to rest of the back of Gord's neck.  "But you know what would prove the most to me?"

"What's that?"

"Your tongue, in my mouth, right now."

"Oh," Gord gasped, "you're so _naughty_."  He leaned up and kissed Vance's lips, teasingly pulling away slightly when the greaser tried to thrust his tongue into Gord's mouth.  "I love it," Gord hissed, then locked his lips over Vance's and kissed him hard.  He felt Vance's hand slip under his shirt as they kissed, to rest once more against his lower back.

After a moment of the best kisses Gord had ever gotten in his life, he reluctantly moved his hands out from the warmth of Vance's jacket and slipped one into the pocket where he had the bracelet.

"I've gotta get back to work," Vance said apologetically.  "We got a project to finish for shop class tomorrow."  
  
"It's all right; I have homework too."  He took Vance's hand in his free one and held it tightly.  "Are you coming to the football game Friday night?  I could see you then."

Vance made a face.  "A football game?  I don't usually go to 'em."

"But it's the first game of the season; it's important!" Gord wheedled.  "And we wouldn't have to stay the whole time."

"Well. . . all right.  If you're gonna be there."  Vance smiled and squeezed his hand.  "I'll see you then, babe."

Gord's pulse quickened at the affectionate nickname.  "Um, one more thing.  I. . . I got you something."  He pulled the gold bracelet out of his pocket and held it out to Vance.  "Here."

The greaser's green eyes widened.  "You got that. . . for me?"  He took the bracelet and looked at it in amazement.

"Yeah, it. . . it reminded me of you.  And maybe you'll think about me when you wear it-- oof!"  Gord gasped as Vance hugged him tightly.

"I think of you all the time anyway," the greaser murmured, pressing his lips to Gord's ear.  "But thank you."  He let Gord go and handed the bracelet back.  "Will you put it on me?"

Gord fastened the pale chain around Vance's wrist, and the greaser looked down at it with a slight blush on his cheeks.  "Wow, no one's ever given me anything this nice before.  It's way too good for me."

"Of course it isn't," Gord scolded.  He leaned up to kiss Vance's cheek gently.  "Now go get your work done.  I don't want to get you in trouble."

Vance grinned and gave him a hard, biting kiss.  "Hey, I like trouble.  And," he added, leaning down to whisper very softly, "you don't know what naughty is yet."  Leaving Gord with that intriguing thought, he sauntered back to the auto shop.  Gord licked his lips as he watched Vance go.  So much for concentrating on homework.


	5. Chapter 5

On Friday night, Gord took his usual place at the football game on the top row of the bleachers with the other preps.  He waited eagerly for Vance, but there wasn't a greaser in sight.  Gord was about to give up hope when he finally spotted Vance walking past the bleachers, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Gord clambered down the bleachers and grabbed Vance's arm.  The greaser turned and grinned when he saw Gord.

"Hey.  I was lookin' for you."

Gord tugged him towards the bleachers.  "Come sit with me."

"A-are you sure?"  Vance looked up nervously at the other preps, some of whom were looking down at them with confused expressions.

"Yes," Gord said firmly, "I'm sure."

He led Vance up to the top row and sat down next to Derby with Vance on his right side.

"Who's your friend?" Derby sniffed haughtily, loud enough for Vance to hear.

"His name's Vance.  We've been racing together," Gord replied.  He covered Vance's hand, resting on the bleacher out of Derby's sight, with his own as he spoke, squeezing it gently.  Vance laced his fingers through Gord's and squeezed back.

"You've been racing with a _greaser_?"

"Yes, I have," Gord replied shortly.  "And he's much better at it than any of _you_."

Derby leaned forward to look past Gord at Vance, then smirked.  "I doubt _that_.  Why don't you bring him to the Vale tomorrow, and we'll find out how good he is."

"You're on," Vance replied before Gord could.  "I'll leave all you trust fund babies in the dust!"  He stuck out his free hand to Derby to shake on it-- and to Gord's amazement, Derby reciprocated.

Gord forgot all about the other preps shortly; he was too wrapped up in the greaser next to him.  Vance continually rubbed his thumb slowly back and forth across the back of Gord's hand, a seemingly innocent action that somehow ended up being incredibly erotic.  The first half of the game flew by without Gord paying attention to a single play.  Instead, he talked to Vance. . . or just looked at Vance.  When he finally took the time to look around him again, it was halftime, and most of the other preps had vacated the bleachers in favor of the concession stand.

"Looks like we're not doing so hot," Vance commented with a nod towards the scoreboard.  The Bullhorns were losing, 14 to 0.

Gord leaned towards him and whispered, "I'm not watching the game anyway. . . .  What do you say we go somewhere a little more. . . private?"

Vance smiled and blushed at the same time.  "I'd love to."

As they walked up the stairs towards the school, Vance asked where Gord had in mind.  The prep thought for a minute, then cleared his throat.  "How about my room?"

"In Harrington House?  What if we get caught?"

"No one will be there until the game's over.  We'll have plenty of time."  The idea sounded better to Gord the more he thought about it, and he tugged Vance towards Harrington House.  "Don't worry-- and you said you like trouble, right?"

Vance chuckled.  "Yeah, that's right."  He followed Gord inside, looking around him as they walked upstairs.  "Wow. . . this sure is different from the dorm.  All this expensive shit lying around."

"Derby's father wouldn't have him living anywhere less than the best," Gord muttered.  He took Vance to his room and shut the door behind them, just in case.  As he was locking it, his back to the greaser, Vance moved closed behind him and wrapped his arms around Gord's waist.  Gord leaned back against his chest happily and covered the greaser's hands with his own.  He was pleased to see that Vance was still wearing the bracelet.

"I'm glad I finally have you to myself," Vance murmured, his lips brushing Gord's ear.

"W-we've been alone before--"

"Not like this."  Vance kissed the side of his neck, just under the curve of his jaw.  The touch of his mouth caused goosebumps to break out on Gord's arms.  Gord pulled away just far enough to turn around and put his own arms around the greaser's shoulders, then he leaned up and kissed him hard.  Vance kissed him back roughly, thrashing his tongue back and forth in Gord's mouth.

They had only kissed for a moment when Gord heard the front door of Harrington House slam and footsteps begin clomping up the stairs.

"Damn, someone's back around," he muttered.  "I guess we're not the only ones who gave up on the game."

"You'll just have to keep me quiet then," Vance chuckled as he pulled away from Gord and backed towards the bed.  "Think about all the trouble you'd get in if you got caught with a _guy_ in your room."

"Vance!" Gord hissed desperately, darting across the room and clapping his hand over his mouth.  "Don't even _think_ about letting them hear you!"  He was none too quick, for a moment later, someone pounded on the door.

"Gord!" Derby's haughty voice came through the door.  "Are you in there?"

Still with his hand over Vance's mouth, Gord feigned a groggy voice and yelled back, "Jesus Christ, Derby, I was asleep!  What do you want?"

"Asleep already?" Derby scoffed.  "Well, never mind, then.  It can wait until morning."  Gord released Vance's mouth after he heard Derby's footsteps receding, and the greaser dissolved into giggles.

"That was close," he snickered.  "The only problem is, how am I going to get out?"

Gord felt his cheeks grow hot.  "Maybe. . . maybe you'll just have to stay here tonight," he murmured, looking down at Vance timidly. 

"You won't mind?"

"Of course not."  Gord sat down beside him and covered Vance's hand with his own.  "I want you to stay. . . ."

Vance leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Gord, nuzzling his neck.  "We'll be in big trouble if we get caught," he whispered teasingly.  "But I'm willing to risk it."

Gord shivered at the feeling of Vance's lips against his throat.  "Hopkins knew what he was doing, asking you to fix my bike."

Vance chuckled softly.  "But I couldn't fix it."

"No, but you ended up fixing my whole life."

Vance was quiet a moment, then he whispered, "That's the best thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Well, it's the truth."  Gord smiled at him and kissed his cheek softly, thinking as he did that sometimes running out of money wasn't so bad.

\--

The End


End file.
